


In the Depths of your Despair...

by SilverScaler3000



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Anxiety, Crying, Depression, Dreams and Nightmares, Drinking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Howards A+ Parenting, Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, I really wish this thing would let me re-arrange the order of the tags..., Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Magic, Mild Blood, One Shot, Self Loathing, emotional breakdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-07-07 01:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15898272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverScaler3000/pseuds/SilverScaler3000
Summary: Then he began to notice something change in the mage’s expression. The disgust and anger fell away, leaving behind only confusion. Then confusion morphed into shock, and an almost pitying look quickly took over Loki’s features. It was a completely foreign expression on the god’s face, and Tony found that he absolutely hated it.“What!?” he finally snapped, thinking he might just shoot Loki with a repulsor blast and worry about the fucking consequences later.“...you’re crying, Stark.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [STARSdidathing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/STARSdidathing/gifts).



> Once again my lovely editor could not proofread for me, so if you notice anything amiss, feel free to complain in the comments section.  
> *cough cough* half-assed attempt to get you people to talk to me and give me feedback *cough*
> 
> Enjoy!!!

“Hey,”

Despite the fact Tony had said it quietly, the word echoed almost mockingly in the large room, reminding him of not only just how empty his floor was, but the whole tower as well. He was and had been for some time, the lone resident now. No Avengers, no Jarvis, not even Pepper to keep him company. She had - of course - long abandoned him since that seemed to be the general trend with anyone and everyone Tony had ever  _dared_ to consider a friend for even a split second. Such was the way with the universe.

It wasn’t that late in the evening, but already it was dark outside; the room the two rivals stood in only dimly lit. The uninvited mage’s traditional green and black outfit stuck out like a sore thumb by the auburn liquor bottles lining the shelves behind him, which was the only reason why Tony had spotted him so quickly. Most of the man was covered in shadow, and Tony found himself scoffing internally at that. Since when did supervillains actually like hiding in the dark? Tony had been lost in it for years, and he’d never seen hide nor hair of a ‘bad guy’. Just the ghosts he wanted to leave behind but still clung to his shadow like burs.

The sound of a bottle cap hitting the counter drew his attention back to his uninvited guest, and Tony watched as his visitor conjured a glass from thin air. He stared for a moment, fascinated as it appeared seamlessly in the mage’s hand, but grew uninterested fairly quickly. Magic, like most other things in his life that had previously intrigued the heck out of him, had lost their appeal. Even the mage himself had begun to grow almost boring, and really, if it had been anyone else besides Tony they’d have no doubt started screaming for help, or would probably have reached for the nearest heavy object to use as a weapon. Heck, a lesser person might have even fallen to their knees and begged for their lives to be spared. But Loki, God of mischief, lies, and being a self-absorbed  _asshole_ , was standing at Tony’s bar, opening a bottle of the billionaire's best scotch, and a cheap greeting was honestly all Tony could give.

Loki frowned, eyeing the inventor challengingly. It was as if he were daring Tony to say something more than just a weak acknowledgment of his presence.

Tony ignored it.

He found it oddly unsurprising that Loki was here, despite the fact the trickster hadn’t set foot in the tower since the Chitauri invasion. The mage had become predictable in his unpredictability, and Tony had known all along that having the God in his tower once more at some point was inevitable.

As it had turned out, Loki _hadn’t_ been totally in control of his own mind during the Chitauri invasion. Totally, being the keyword. So instead of imprisoning him, Thor’s all-knowing daddy dearest had decided to just banish the mage to earth, because apparently if Ass-guard was some sort of heaven in those people’s eyes, then Midgard was their equivalent of hell.

A charming race of aliens, truly.

Loki had been powerless originally, his magic stripped from him, but then he got his powers back thanks to an apprentice Thor had very  _conveniently_ forgotten about (Aurora something or other, Tony didn’t really care), and had been a constant pain in Tony’s ass ever since.

Well,  _pain_ was a strong word. Loki had been a lot of things in Tony’s ass; sometimes it had even been the other way around.

But Loki, as far as Tony could tell, had never intruded in his tower. Not once. And Tony had, for the most part, felt relieved by that fact. A small, particularly stupid part of the back of his mind, had always hoped that maybe the mischief-maker would come for a late night booty call, maybe even exchange insults for a few hours. It would certainly make things a tad bit less gloomy around here. But sadly - and if Tony was being honest, probably for the best - their questionable activities had remained in abandoned warehouses and mysterious locations the God would whisk them away to soon after battles.

He watched sullenly as Loki gave him a bored look that Tony could immediately tell was fake, even in the dim light. He had caught the brief twitch in Loki’s expression when the trickster had spoken, subtle as it was, and Tony knew Loki well enough by now to see the cracks in his crazed demeanor.

“Stark,” Loki greeted, frowning as Tony shuffled past him to stand in front of a window.  _The_ window, to be precise, the same one Loki had unceremoniously thrown him out of so long ago. It was repaired now, of course, but the memory lingered on it, like a fingerprint that stubbornly refused to be removed from its surface.

His frown only deepened as the Tony stared out of it thoughtfully; pointedly ignoring him.

“Finally collecting on that drink, huh?” Tony asked after a brief moment of silence, pressing his palm against the glass. He leaned forward and laid his forehead against it, peering down at New York City. Tony found it oddly calming to watch all the activity down below, the thousands of people going about their lives. Maybe that was why having the self-proclaimed ‘master of chaos’ here didn’t bother him. A little excitement never killed anyone, right? Or rather, it didn’t always come close.

Usually.

“Indeed,” Loki said as he poured the whiskey into a glass, the ice cracking loudly as the warm alcohol settled around it. “You offered me one almost six years ago today, and it seemed long past due. Although,” Loki set the bottle down on the counter and took a sip, licking his lips experimentally, “I do so find it rather  _dull_ without any intelligent conversation to give it flavor.”

He said this very pointedly, and Tony knew that tone well enough by now to read between the lines. Loki wasn’t just referring to Tony’s current silence, that much was obvious. No, he was clearly pointing an accusing, peripheral finger at how Tony had been skipping their normal witty banter during fights lately in favor of just getting the job  _done_.

It had been a slow process, but as time dragged on Tony had felt himself losing his confidence, his cockiness, and had settled for just beating the crap out of anyone that dared to force him from his home, where he spent his days just mindlessly filling out paperwork for SI and getting blackout drunk. His jibes had become less and less enthusiastic, and clearly, if Loki’s barbed comment was anything to go by, the mage had noticed it during their little skirmishes. And Tony, Tony just…

He didn't  _care_ anymore.

He shrugged as he stared at Loki through the window's reflection, feeling utterly detached and emotionless. “Sorry if I don’t meet your standards,” he muttered half-heartedly.

He didn’t even flinch when Loki appeared in a flash of green magic behind him, his lips curled back in a snarl.

“You should be sorry,” the mage hissed, grabbing Tony’s shoulders and whirling him around, pinning him against the glass. His grip was tight, undoubtedly painful, but Tony didn’t react beyond closing his eyes tightly.  “How dare you let yourself become this pitiful shell of a man,” Loki spat, shaking him.

Tony winced, Loki’s words hurting him more than the fingers digging into his shoulders. “I didn’t realize you cared so much, Reindeer games,” he said quietly, voice tight.

Loki grabbed his hair by the nape of his neck and forced Tony to look up at him, making him cry out in discomfort. “Your mind is the one brilliant gem on this wretched planet, and I will not stand to see it dimmed in this pathetic self-wallowing!”

Tony laughed abruptly at that, a broken, bitter thing, and Loki actually looked taken aback. “That’s all I am, isn’t it?” he asked. “Yep, Tony Stark is nothing but brains, emphasized by the fact he doesn’t have a  _fucking_ ** _heart!_** ”

He shoved Loki’s chest, and the mage actually let go of him, shocked by Tony’s outburst.

‘ _Good,_ ’ Tony thought as he stalked forward, forcing Loki to back up accordingly. “You’re right Loki,” he continued almost cheerfully, “How  _dare_ I try to be anything other than what  _Howard_ ,” he spat the name, “Always wanted me to be? The perfect son, the perfect replica of Captain _Fucking_ America.” He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “Except it’s never enough,  _is it_? Nope, I can never measure up, can never be perfect, and therefore have no fucking right to live my life the way I want to!”

Loki planted his feet, refusing to move another step backward even as Tony came chest to chest with him. “So this is how you wish to live your life, Stark?” he challenged angrily, gesturing around them as they stood in the middle of the room. “This is how you intend to spend your remaining years? Locked in your tower like some delicate femm in one of your realms fairy tales?” He shook his head in disgust. “You would hide in here like a _coward_ -”

“Shut up!” Tony screamed, stepping back and flicking his hand out in front of him. A gauntlet quickly flew into the room and attached itself to his wrist, glowing brightly as his repulsors activated. He pointed it threateningly at the God in front of him, keeping his eyes locked on Loki’s face. “I’ve had enough of your fucking expectations,” he hissed. “Get the hell out of my tower. I already have seven billion people on this damn planet who think I’m nothing but a screwup, I don’t need a fucking alien, god,  _whatever_ , thinking it too!”

Loki didn’t move, staring Tony down darkly, and the inventor  _seethed_. Why wouldn’t the bastard just leave!?

Then he began to notice something change in the mage’s expression. The disgust and anger fell away, leaving behind only confusion. Then confusion morphed into shock, and an almost pitying look quickly took over Loki’s features. It was a completely foreign expression on the god’s face, and Tony found that he absolutely  _hated_ it.

“ _What!?_ ” he finally snapped, thinking he might just shoot Loki with a repulsor blast and worry about the fucking consequences later.

Loki's mouth opened, then closed; gaze uncertain. Finally, he spoke. “...you’re crying, Stark.”

Tony blinked, bringing a hand to his face. Sure enough, it came away wet. He stared uncomprehendingly at it, trying and failing to process the sight of his own tears. _Starks are made of iron,_ his father’s over judgmental voice rang through his head.

Well, apparently, iron could cry.

Tony giggled. He didn’t mean to, it just kinda slipped out. At Loki’s incredulous expression, he only chuckled harder. He covered his hand with his mouth, but they just wouldn’t stop. This entire situation was just too fucking hilarious!

Tony felt himself sinking onto his knees, holding his stomach as he convulsed with laughter. Or was he crying? He couldn’t tell anymore, but it felt  _horrible._ The fact Loki was just standing there wasn’t helping. ‘ _He finally got me to kneel for him,_ ’ Tony thought bitterly, somehow making the situation seem even funnier still. 

To his shock though, Loki knelt down on the floor beside him. Tony’s laughing ceased abruptly, and he stared questioningly at the God. The mage was looking at him with his head tilted to one side, studying him thoughtfully. Slowly, as if he were trying not to startle him, Loki brought a hand to Tony’s cheek, gently brushing away a tear as it fell with his thumb. Tony held his breath as the hand traveled down to his shoulder; gentle in comparison to how the trickster had been holding him there earlier. “Stark,” Loki said, softly, his green eyes filled with empathy.

And something inside Tony absolutely  _shattered._

He keened loudly, sobbing as tears fell past his cheeks in two steady streams. Tony's breathing hitched and contracted harshly in his chest, and he only barely registered the ground rushing up to meet him when he began to fall forwards. Loki caught him before his body could connect with the floor, and he brought Tony close to his chest, murmuring into his hair as he rocked them back and forth gently. Tony only cried harder still.

No one had touched him like this in years, not since long before Pepper had broken up with him _._ The closest he had come to feeling something intimate with anyone had been when Loki and him had begun hooking up, and that was a joke at best.

Whenever the mage had fucked him, it had been hard, borderline painful. Tony was no different during the times the mage gave him control, and they both preferred it that way. It carried no strings, no attachments, and they could both release a little tension and hate they held for one another in a more enjoyable way. Tony couldn’t even remember who had made the first move, but they had both silently agreed not to speak of it outside of having sex, to not let it interfere with their lives, and Tony had thought he liked it that way.

But to have Loki holding him gently, to be curled in the God's embrace and feel wanted, treasured even, had Tony’s non-existent heart exploding with warmth and  _agony_.

“You’re alright, everything’s alright, Stark,” Loki murmured soothingly, rubbing his hand up and down Tony’s back as the man cried harder.

“T-Tony,” came a shuddered reply.

Loki glanced down at him, and he nodded his head. “Tony,” he whispered.

Tony closed his eyes and pressed himself further into the mage’s embrace, sighing shakily. He could feel himself slipping into something akin to unconsciousness, and he welcomed the darkness as it took him, not even noticing when Loki began to lift him up and carry him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this, I think it was a stroke of - incredibly bored - genius. If you're feeling impatient, feel free to check out my other frostiron while I work on chapter two (I have no clue when it'll be up, I'm lame like that)
> 
> Anyvays don't forget to Kudos, and I'll see you all in the comment section!!!  
> ; )


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Star! So, I decided on a whim that I really wanted to dedicate this to you. Your works are what made me fall in love with Frostiron, and I think this is good enough to gift to you. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> (new note: Hi guys! Star was very kind and helped me edit the fic. So while the original second chapter was posted in October, I wanted to show off the new and improved version)

_“No, not again, not again! Please, this can’t be happening!”_

_But it was happening. Tony was back in space, floating in the dark, empty expanse helplessly. It was cold, cold,_ **_so fucking cold_ ** _. Tony thought he might bite off his own tongue his teeth were chattering so hard. The portal to earth was closed behind him, never to be open again, and he could feel what little oxygen he had depleting fast. He tried to move, but he- he just couldn’t!_

_No matter what command Tony gave, his armor wouldn’t respond. It was dead; broken beyond repair. It clung heavily to his body even in the weightless vacuum of space, holding his limbs down as he tried desperately to move them. He was drifting farther and farther away from everything he had ever known and loved, but that wasn’t what had him screaming to a God or Gods he didn’t even believe in._

_It was them, the monsters that haunted every waking moment Tony wasn’t drunk; came crawling out of the shadows of his mind to destroy him, make him jump and shake and cry and scream into empty rooms for them to leave him alone._

_The_ **_Chitauri_ ** _._

 _They were directly in front of him, as if the nuke he had thrown in their faces all those years ago had done_ ** _nothing_** _. The writhing mass of aliens was getting closer by the second, shrieking unintelligible noises that were loud enough to rattle Tony’s bones. Dimly, he could hear the Avengers shouting for him, their comms still connected even though he was thousands of miles away. They were dying, screaming in agony as Ultron, Hydra, hundreds of enemies they thought they had defeated long ago hunted for blood, tearing each of the people Tony had once considered friends apart; slowly, agonizingly. Tony had to listen to all of it as the Chitauri in front of him rushed forward with their maws open wide, and suddenly he was_ ** _falling_ ** _-_

 

“No!” Tony screamed as he hit the ground. He sat up with a strangled cry, trying desperately to figure out where he was. It was dark, dark, _too dark_. Where was he? Where did the Chitauri go? _Why was it so fucking dark!?_

He tried to scramble to his feet but found to his horror that he couldn’t. The ground was shaking - or was that him? - throwing him off balance, and there was something heavy and warm wrapped around his legs, making it impossible to move them. Tears came streaming down his face, and Tony clawed desperately at whatever was covering his body. It tangled his limbs, constraining him, and he writhed and shouted broken nothing's as he tried to get free.

“Gah!” he shouted as someone grabbed hold of both of his wrists, pinning them down with an iron-like grip. Tony sobbed even harder, thrashing in the unknown persons hold. “No, no  _please_ , no!” he begged.

He could hear a someone trying to talk to him, and something about their tone made Tony pause, trying desperately to understand them, to hear what they were saying over the blood rushing in his ears.

“...rk….Sta... _Tony!_ ”

Tony inhaled sharply. That voice, that sounded like-

“Loki?” he asked, blinking as he tried to make out the person’s features in the dark.

“Tony,” Loki repeated, “You need to calm down. You are safe in your bedchambers, nothing is going to harm you.”

_Except you._

There was a long pause, and after a moment Tony could hear Loki sighing. “I’m not, Tony. Truly, I am not.”

Tony hadn’t even realized he’d said that out loud. “Lights,” he mumbled hoarsely, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. Sure enough, he was in his bedroom in Stark Tower, lying in a tangled heap of sheets on the carpet next to his bed. But more importantly, and most alarmingly, Loki was kneeling on the floor in front of him, his face only inches away from the inventors as he kept his hands clamped over Tony’s wrists.

“Are you calm?” Loki asked, his brow furrowed with what - if he hadn’t known any better - Tony thought was  _concern_. He nodded, and Loki sighed. “Thank the Norns.”

Tony released a breathe he hadn't realized he'd been holding as the mage slowly released him from his grip. Once it seemed he was certain that Tony wasn't going to start thrashing again Loki sat back, tilting his head inquiringly at the billionaire.

“How do you fare?” he asked.

Tony breathed another shaky exhale, hesitating only for a brief moment before answering. “Umm, I feel fine, I guess?”

 _Fine_ was the farthest thing he felt, but at the moment the ‘God’ in his bedroom seemed more the priority of Tony’s focus. He froze as said God brought a hand to his face, resting the back of it gently against his forehead. Tony let out a small whine at the unexpected touch, biting his cheek as Loki tutted disapprovingly.

“You're burning up,” the mage murmured, frowning. He brushed his fingers down the side of Tony’s face, caressing his cheek. He carefully wiped away the remnants of the inventor's tears, and Tony sighed shakily. He leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed. Loki’s hand was so cool on his face…  

He gasped as Loki swiftly picked him up off the floor, grasping at his shoulders as he held Tony bridal style. “L-Loki?” he stuttered, trying and failing not to let his voice go up a few octaves. “ _What are you doing!?_ ”

“Relax,” Loki said, laying him carefully on the bed. “Your ill, and panicking will only make your condition worsen.”

Tony felt himself blush as Loki carded a hand through his hair, and he cursed inwardly, hoping the Asgardian would blame it on his fever. For fuck’s sake, he wasn’t even naked! And even if he was, it’s not as if Loki hadn’t already seen his body - although to be fair, neither of them had ever really taken the time to get fully undressed.

Maybe Tony was reacting like this because Loki was in his bedroom with him. Or maybe it was the fact that Loki was standing beside him as he lay on the mattress, making Tony feel more vulnerable than he had ever felt before in his entire life. Maybe it was the shockingly gentle way Loki was treating him, handling him as if he were afraid Tony would break if he wasn’t careful, or the memory of Loki’s arms wrapped protectively around Tony’s body as he cried; of how safe and warm Tony had felt in the mage’s embrace…

_What was this feeling?_

Tony started as he realized Loki had said something, and he quickly refocused his attention on the mage. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Where do you keep your medications?” came the repeated question.

Tony noted that Loki was avoiding his eyes, focusing instead on fixing the blankets. Tony swallowed whatever strange emotion that had entered his chest down. He kept Motrin and other necessities in the cabinet behind his bathroom sink’s mirror, but…

“What’re you doing here?” he finally asked. Loki’s hands froze for a brief instant, before resuming their straightening of the already perfectly smooth blankets. Tony sighed. “C’mon, Reindeer games, answer my question.”

Loki took a step away from the bed, frowning uncertainly. “I’m going to get you something to drink,” he said in the following moment of silence.

Tony opened his mouth to argue, to demand an explanation, but Loki vanished from where he stood in a small flash of green light, leaving the billionaire sputtering angrily. “Fucking magic,” he mumbled, lying back down. After a moment he sighed shakily, rubbing his eyes. A few leftover tears came trickling down his face, and Tony bit his cheek to keep himself from whimpering.

He sat up abruptly, wanting, no,  _needing_ to do something other than lie in his bed like a broken doll. He threw the off blankets Loki had so painstakingly wrapped him in and stood up, letting them fall to the floor. He felt a brief moment of smug satisfaction from the action, before he scowled unhappily. Pepper was right, he  _did_ throw temper tantrums. Shaking his head at himself, Tony walked into his bathroom, closing and locking the door behind himself. He knew that would do nothing to stop Loki if the mage wanted to get in, but he did so regardless.

He walked over to the mirror, staring at himself. His hair looked like a rats nest, and he had more stubble then he normally allowed lining his face. The bags under his eyes only made how red they were all the more obvious, and Tony could still see signs of tear tracks along his cheeks.

Case in point, he looked like  _shit_.

The inventor groaned and rubbed his face with a tired hand. He kept it there, refusing to look his own reflection in the eyes. Then Tony started digging his nails into his flesh, trying to ground himself as his dream flashed behind his eyes. He wasn’t unused to the nightmares, they tended to haunt his sleep, but that one had been especially dark. And as much as Tony hated to admit it, hearing people he now hated dying that gruesomely was too much for even the former _Merchant of Death_ to bear.

A sob tore past his lips before he could stop it, and Tony stared angrily at himself in the mirror. ‘ _Stark men are made of Iron, Stark men are made of Iron_ ,’ he repeated over and over again in his mind, trying to ignore the horrible, unwanted emotions he could feel bubbling up and threatening to tear him from the inside out.  _This_ was why he did nothing to discourage the distance people put between him and themselves; this was why he had to be alone, no matter how much he hated it. He was pathetic, a liability, and more importantly, he just couldn’t handle it. The responsibility that came with the armor he had made was threatening to destroy whatever sanity he had left. How ironic that he had created it to escape imprisonment when it was nothing more than a gilded cage, a different kind of torture that was no less destructive on his mind. Tony couldn’t handle the echoing screams from his dreams, shadows of the real cries he had heard far too often. Too many people he hadn't been able to help, had failed to protect. He couldn’t, no,  _wouldn’t_ bear the feeling of utter helplessness as his enemies destroyed him and everything he cared about. He refused to feel like this, refused to-

“ ** _Augh!_** ” Tony screamed, smashing his fist into the mirror. It shattered, making a thousand tiny reflections of his crazed expression. He backed away from it, staring. It had never before shown a more perfect reflection of his inner torment, his  _agony_. Split, unmendable, covered in blood…

Wait, blood?

Tony glanced down at his wrist, and he hissed sharply. Red liquid was bubbling out of his palm, dripping down his arm into a growing puddle on the tiled floor; a jagged shard of the mirror embedded in his hand. “Fuck,” he whispered, grimacing as the pain finally registered. “Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, _fuck_!”

There was a loud knock, and Tony nearly jumped out of his skin. “Tony?” came Loki’s voice from behind the door.

“ _What!?_ ” Tony shouted. He frowned as the door handle jiggled. “It’s locked, and _no_ you can’t come in.”

“Are you alright?” Loki asked. “I thought I heard something break.”

“Oh yeah, I’m a bundle of shits and giggles,” Tony muttered. “Relax Prancer, I just broke a mirror and cut myself. I do worse in my lab.”

There was a brief, weighted pause, and then the door handle jiggled again. “Let me in,” Loki ordered. “ _Now._ ”

Tony scoffed. “Yeah, if you think I’m going to do things just because you ask me to  _outside_ of sex, then we’re going to need to have a long conversation.”

“I’m not joking, Stark,” the mage growled. “Let. Me. _In_.”

“Fuck off!”

Tony could hear Loki sighing, and he very nearly screamed as the Asgardian appeared in a burst of magic behind him. He whirled around, snarling at the mage. “Don’t do that!”

“I’ll do whatever the Hel I-” Loki’s eyes zoned in on Tony’s hand, and his expression turned into one of horror. Before Tony could stop him, he was holding the injured hand, inspecting it carefully. “You're bleeding.”

“No genius, it’s fruit juice. _Yes, I’m bleeding!_ ” he snapped, trying and failing to yank his hand out of the Asgardians grasp. He hissed as the cut opened further due to the sudden jerk of movement, and he glared angrily at Loki. “Now, what the fuck do you want?”

“To get that piece of mirror out, for one,” Loki said, “And for another, to have your hand properly sterilized and bandaged.”

Tony grumbled angrily under his breath. “You and me both. Now if you would kindly- _hey!_ ”

He snarled, bringing his hand close to his chest. Fresh blood gushed out of the wound and soaked his shirt, but he ignored it as he glared at Loki, who held the piece of mirror triumphantly in his hand. “There,” he said smugly.

“The fuck did you do that for!?” Tony demanded, glaring as the mage used his magic to levitate the broken shard above his palm. At a slight tilt of Loki’s head, it flew back towards the mirror, sliding back into place amongst the spider webbed lines etched into the glass. Tony watched, fascinated - how could he not be? - as it seemingly fixed itself, the cracks becoming nonexistent as the mirror was mended by Loki’s magic.

“There," Loki said smugly. "Now, let me have another look at your hand.”

Tony scoffed. “Thanks, but no thanks,” he said, brushing past the mage. He walked over to the sink, turning on the warm water. He hissed at it made contact with the cut, but after a moment he got used to it. "I can handle this myself, I don't need you, or anyone else, for that matter."

He glared at Loki through the mirror's reflection, daring him to say otherwise. Loki stared back at him, but otherwise did nothing to contradict Tony's statement. Satisfied, Tony began to carefully clean the cut. Once he was sure it was as good as it was going to get - it still stung like a bitch, but he had felt worse - Tony then dried it off using one of the white towels that hung on a rack next to him. The blood would probably stain it, but whatever. He could always get more.

As he put the towel down he frowned. He could still feel Loki’s eyes watching him, but Tony refused to dignify the mage’s stare by meeting his eyes again in the mirror. Instead, he reached into a cabinet and pulled out a roll of bandages, getting ready to wrap his palm. A hand on his shoulder made him pause.

“Allow me,” Loki said quietly into his ear.

Tony growled, jerking away. “I’m fine,” he stated gruffly. He discovered a few minutes later that he was  _not_ fine; that trying to wrap bandages one handed was next to impossible, but like hell if he was going to ask Loki for help.

“Tony,” Loki tried again, “If you would just-”

“I can do it myself!” Tony snapped, whirling around to face the mage. Why was he even here? _Why_ was he acting like he actually gave a damn!?

“I know you are fully capable,” Loki agreed softly. “And I have no doubts that you would,  _eventually_ ,” he smirked, “Finish on your own, but you don’t have to.”

Tony flinched as Loki’s hand came to settle on his shoulder again, gasping as he bumped into the bathroom wall behind him. He bristled as the mage came chest to chest with him, cornering Tony so that he couldn’t move away. “I don’t need your help,” he spat, “And as I sure as hell don’t want your fucking pity!”

“Maybe not,” Loki conceded, infuriatingly calm. “But this isn’t pity, Tony.”

Tony growled lowly, jutting his chin out as he demanded, “Then what the hell do you call this, Sherlock?”

Loki gave him a confused look, but pushed his puzzlement over the reference aside and simply brought a hand up to Tony’s face. He didn’t pull away this time, and the mage used the opportunity to cup his cheek gently. “This is someone understanding,” he whispered.

For a moment Tony just stared at him. “What’s there to understand?” he asked after a long stretch of silence. Loki didn’t answer him, and Tony didn’t resist as Loki gently grabbed his hand again.

It took only a few brief minutes to finish wrapping the bandages, and after a moment of what appeared to be contemplation, Loki flicked his hand over the wrist, whispering something in a language that Tony didn’t recognize. He gasped as tendrils of green light wrapped themselves around him, pushing past the bandages and into his palm. Tony couldn’t help but moan at the warm, tingling sensation that shot straight through it, spreading throughout the rest of his body. A second later the feeling dissipated, and he sighed in disappointment, making Loki chuckle.

“The spell I put in place will ensure that your hand will not scar, and will also help to bring your fever down,” he explained. “Now all you require is rest.”

Tony didn’t answer him. He brought his hand to his face, staring at it. “Why are you acting like this?” he asked. “I thought the point of being an asshole was to show you _didn’t care_.”

There was no anger in Tony's voice, it had been replaced with genuine curiosity. Loki shrugged. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be shocked when I say that my general persona is a _lie_.” Tony looked at him in surprise, but Loki continued speaking, undeterred. “You know just as well as I do that no amount of pretending changes how we feel."

Tony swallowed hard. “Oh yeah?” he said. “And what exactly is it you think I feel?”

Loki’s mouth quirked into a suggestive smile. “I think you feel exactly the way  _I_ do, my Tony.”

Tony’s mouth fell open soundlessly.  _His Tony_. What the hell was Loki talking about-

His question was answered in the form of a tender kiss.

Loki had done it so suddenly, and yet it was still feather-light; a soft brush against Tony’s lips. Tony stiffened, his mind reeling. This was hardly the first time Loki had kissed him, but this…

This was  _different_.

The hand that wasn’t cupping Tony’s cheek slid up his spine, sending shivers through his body as he was brought flush to Loki’s chest. The kiss remained closed for a while, and Tony gasped in surprise when a gentle tongue traced the outside of his mouth, asking for permission to enter. Tony hesitated only for a moment before he let his lips part, and Loki moaned gratefully into his mouth. Tony’s eyes fluttering closed, and the kiss grew deeper as Tony responded.

When they finally parted, Loki rested his forehead against Tony’s. “Am I right then, my Tony?” His voice was soft, intimate, but Tony could hear the uncertainty that underscored it. 

Tony swallowed. "Maybe," he whispered, and pressed closer to the mage, unable to offer more. He also tried to downplay it, but his voice came out too rough; "Why don’t you test me and find out?”

Loki smiled softly, giving Tony a surprisingly chaste kiss on the forehead. “As tempting an offer as that is, my dear,  _brilliant_ mortal, I’d rather not while you’re ill. I may be persuaded when you’re feeling better, but for now…”

Tony gasped as Loki’s magic pulled them back into his bedroom. He made Tony lay down on the bed, once more bringing the blankets up to his chin. “I think it would be wise for you to rest.” He began to pull back, but he stilled when Tony’s hand wrapped around his wrist. “Tony?”

Tony’s teeth worried his bottom lip, and Loki waited patiently for him to speak. “Stay?” the inventor asked.

Loki looked torn. “Tony, you’re feverish, I really don’t think-”

“I don’t want to have sex,” Tony cut in. “Just… keep me company?”

Loki’s eyes widened. “Alright,” he murmured. He tried to pull away so he could bring one of the chairs in the room over to the bed, but Tony kept a firm grip on his wrist.

“Wrong way, Loke’s.”

Loki chuckled as he caught Tony’s meaning, and he climbed into the bed, the billionaire scooting back to give him room. “So demanding,” the mage teased. He laid so he was facing the inventor, resting his head just above Tony’s and placing an arm around the smaller man’s waist.

“Hey, Loki?”

“Hmm?” Loki responded, nuzzling Tony’s hair with his nose, inhaling his scent.

“About last night…” Tony trailed off, and Loki waited patiently for him to continue. “I’m a failure,” he finally whispered.

Loki pulled back, frowning. “No, you’re not,” he said.

“I _am_.” Tony insisted angrily. “Why do you think I’m alone? Every time I try to make someone a part of my life, every time I try to help people-” his uninjured hand clenched the sheets tightly, “I only end up _hurting_ them.”

Loki held him quietly for a moment. “I believe," he began, "That there are many people who would agree with you.” He said it not unkindly, but it still made Tony wince. “However,” he tilted Tony’s chin up, giving him a fond smile. “There are also those who would tell you just how wrong you are. How incredibly gifted and kind-hearted you are.”

Tony couldn’t help but scoff. “Since when did you turn into such a sap?”

Loki pulled Tony against his chest, settling his arms so that he was holding the inventor in a snug embrace. “Since you, my love.”

Tony’s breath caught in his throat, and he buried his face in Loki’s shirt. “Shut up,” he muttered.

Loki simply hummed and held him tighter. “Sleep, Tony. I shan’t leave your side tonight, or the night after.”

Tony couldn't help the whimper that escaped from him. “You promise?” he whispered, staring up at him with pained eyes.

Loki brought him closer, sealing his word with a soft kiss. “ _I Promise_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Please don't forget to smash that kudos button before you leave, and I would LOVE to hear from you in the comments section 
> 
> Read ya later!


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